


The Mighty Boosh Halloween Special of Doom 2014- Chapter 4

by WorriedEye



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M, Zombies, halloween special of doom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 00:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12544924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorriedEye/pseuds/WorriedEye
Summary: WRITTEN FOR THE 2014 MIGHTY BOOSH HALLOWEEN SPECIAL OF DOOM PROJECT WHICH IS HOUSED OVER ON LJ IN THE BOOSH SLASH HAVEN.The bit where Howard and Vince are both put under quite a lot of stress.  Saboo however remains fairly non-plussed.Anything you can possibly associate with zombies may or may not happen.  And I can't promise I'll be gentle with either of the boys.I wanted my chapter to return to Howard and co, but I also didn't want to miss out on an opportunity to 'play' with Vince, so I've done both.  In consequence this is sort of three mini-chapters making up one larger chapter. Hope that's OK. In terms of the story I can only apologise if it's a bit dark for some...or not dark enough for others. x





	The Mighty Boosh Halloween Special of Doom 2014- Chapter 4

The streets had become eerily quiet. Nothing moved, well nothing apart from the gentle flapping of a torn shirt sleeve on a carelessly discarded limb, nothing apart from the automatic doors of the Tesco Metro opening and shutting against an abandoned pumpkin, nothing apart from a small three-piece sofa hovering along about two metres above the ground. Its passengers; a gorilla with a frown of concentration on his face, a small man in a large blue turban who appeared to be talking to himself, and a distraught looking Northern man, who, from a distance could have been mistaken for Sean Bean, but up close looked more like a shrew. A handsome shrew, but a shrew nonetheless.

Howard Moon wasn't sure how he was managing to hold himself together. Today had really not turned out as he'd planned. He wished himself back to that morning, to when the only thing he'd been fearing was how to tell Vince he loved him. He rolled this thought around his mind, enjoying for a moment the comfort it gave him. Love! He could hardly believe it. How had it taken him so long to admit it to himself? But then his stomach lurched as his mind raced instead to the memory of that bloody patch on the carpet of TopShop, and the scary knowledge that wherever Vince was, he was hurt and alone. He wrapped his fingers through the lock of hair in his pocket and brought it out. Fisting the dark tress he raised it up to his nose, closing his eyes and breathing in the faint scent of Vince's shampoo between his fingers. There was no mistaking it, it was definitely Vince's. He'd know that lush ebony hair anywhere. Heck, most of Dalston would recognise it as Vince had made and sold many wigs of his own barnet over the years. Not to mention there was one secretly stashed under Howard’s bed. The thought brought a blush to Howard's cheeks before his stomach lurched again and he leant over the arm of the sofa worried he was about to throw-up.

"Howard?"

"I'm okay Naboo."

"Good because we can't have you vomiting into the cauldron. It will ruin the potion."

"I'm not going to vomit. I'm fine."

"It's bad enough travelling around with Tony Harrison without you blowing your guts. That pink rugby ball only has to look at a skateboard to get queasy."

"I said I'm fine Saboo. Look, where are we going Bollo? You said you knew but you seem to just be circling around Kentish Town."

"Bollo just getting his bearings. Bollo not good at up and down."

"Up and down? You mean North and South. For pete's sake, Vince is in danger and you can't even manage the basic points of a compass."

Howard could not keep the squeaky pitch of panic out of his voice.

"I have to agree with the human Naboo, we do seem to be travelling rather aimlessly?"

"What's going on Bollo? What exactly are you looking for?"

"Dead place."

"Dead place?"

"Place where dead live."

"Well that's just perfect isn't it you great lump of apey uselessness. The please where dead live! Naboo, your familiar is too crumbs short of a custard cream."

"Hang on", Howard leaned forward to talk around the shamen, "Bollo, do you mean the cemetery?"

"Yeah, place where dead live. It's around here somewhere. Big place. Lots of dead."

"Highgate Cemetery?"

"Yeah, Highgate. Tony thought place important."

"Stop the sofa!"

"Why? Howard what are you doing?"

"Highgate Cemetery Naboo. Bollo might be onto something. All those dead walking around, they had to come from somewhere didn't they?"

"What's Moon on about?" Saboo sounded more than a little exasperated, but then when did he not?

"Highgate Cemetery. Big famous graveyard up by the Heath. Don't you know anything Saboo?"

"I don't waste my time on the trivial tinkerings of earth people like you Naboo. I have more important things to do with my time."

"Like what? Applying your eyeliner and primping your feathers."

"Taking pride in my appearance is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Will you two, I mean one, I mean two shut up! I'm trying to think! Bollo stop the sofa, I need to grab a map."

Bolla lowered the sofa to the ground in front of a Waterstone's and stuck out a finger, "Book house."

"Thanks."

Howard darted from the sofa, through the opened doors of the bookshop, and quickly returned armed with a London A-Z and a second book, 'How To Survive a Zombie Apocalypse.' He passed it to Naboo and shrugged. 

"Might come in handy?"

Naboo nodded and turned to reach for Vince's carrier bag which Bollo has placed behind the cauldron. As he did so he caught the bottom of it on the cauldron handle, ripping a large hole in the corner and spilling Vince's blouse and the other contents to the floor in front of the sofa. Howard dived on the items, collecting them up in his arms and redepositing them onto the empty lounge seat. He fingered the collection lovingly. Vince's little Rolling Stones Tongue zipper wallet, the Nabootique shop key attached to a Velvet Onion promotional keyring, a zebra print silk scarf, a pair of earbuds in the shape of skeleton heads, a small gift wrapped parcel that said simply 'For Howard' on it and a folded piece of shiny paper. Howard picked this up and unfolded it carefully. He recognised the high-gloss images of Cheekbone and Vince's childlike scrawl that graffitied one side of it. He studied it more closely. It seemed to have been ripped from the letters page. Vince had circled in bright red marker pen one entry in the centre, "Vince Noir, admit your feelings to Howard Moon by the end of the month or we'll do it for you. Signed N & B."

"What the..?"

Howard shook his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. He continued to read Vince's scribbly markings. "Plan 1 make haloweene stuff. Plan 2 new out fit. Plan 3 do hair . Plan 4 tell howard." Then elsewhere on the page "I luv Howard." In the top corner "rite letter? card? pres sant?" And then right at the bottom "Vince Moon. Howard Noir. Moonnoir. Noirmoon. Vinard Moonnoir. Howince Noirmoon." 

Howard held the piece of magazine out toward Naboo, his hand noticeably shaking.

"What's this?"

"What does it look like you ballbag?"

"But...?"

"Don't sweat the detail Howard. Vince loves you, you love Vince. I was just helping you along a bit. Bollo's sick of Vince going on about it to him. I'm sick of seeing your soppy face about the place."

Saboo contributed with a disdainful sigh of boredom. Howard ignored him and grabbed the blouse, squeezing it close to his chest.

"We've got to find him Naboo!"

"I know. We will."

 

*

 

Vince held his breath. There was nothing else he could do. He held his breath and screwed his eyes shut and tried to block out the feeling of The Zombie King running those disgusting fingers through his hair. The King's nails scratched gently at his scalp. Vince bit his bottom lip.

Without warning the King suddenly grabbed a good handful of Vince's precious mane and pulled his head upwards. Vince's lower jaw jutted out as he clenched his teeth against the pain. His eyes flew open in distress.

"I asked you a question! Who are you?"

Vince swallowed down as much of his fear as he could and answered in a voice he barely recognised.

"Vince."

"Prince Vince. How very fitting. So Vince, how do you fancy a life of unholy matrimony?"

The Zombie King laughed at his own joke, the crowd of undead responding with moans of appreciation.

"Why are you doing this?"

Vince's question seemed so tiny in such crowded space.

"What's that breather? What's that you ask? Why am I doing this?"

The King let go of Vince's hair and the young man's head dropped sharply to his chest. The King again addressed his minions.

"He wants to know why. They always want to know why!"

He turned back to Vince and re-grabbed Vince's chin, pinching hard enough to bruise. Vince tried to turn away from the rancid breath but was held firm.

"I'll tell you why my pretty little man."

(A small part of Vince died inside on hearing Howard's pet name for him spoken by such a hideous being).

"It's quite simple really. I need to marry a living human to complete the ritual. If I complete the ritual every dead man, woman and child across this miserable world will rise up and devour the living. This in turn will make me King, of well, everywhere!"

The Zombie King threw his head back in an evil guffaw. Vince couldn't help but roll his eyes. Just another cliched madman monster then.

"Why me?"

Vince's voice had regained some of it's composure.

"I don't know Prince Vince? They picked you not me. But I can't say I'm disappointed, you're quite a catch. Shame you have to die really."

That composure that had returned to Vince's voice... - it didn't last long.  
"Die?"

Vince could hardly manage to get the word out.

"Why of course my winsome one, you have to die at the end. It would be no fun else would it? What's the point of a ritual without a little human sacrifice?"

The King dropped Vince's face again and beckoned to the nearest two zombies.

"Bring him to the stage!"

The rotting corpses grabbed an arm each and roughly dragged Vince to his feet. Vince struggled against them, but they were surprisingly strong for creatures without good muscle definition. Besides where the hell was he meant to run to if he did get free? As far as his eyes could see there was decaying face after decaying face after decaying face. As he was dragged inelegantly towards the stage Vince's spirit left him. Well nearly. Just there, tucked into the corner of his soul, was a tiny beacon of hope, a tiny flicker in the gloom that carried within it's ebbing flames the name Howard.

 

*

 

Bollo, with Howard's help, had successfully managed to navigate the back streets towards Highgate Cemetery. The streets had remained devoid of any signs of undead, a fact that Howard had brought to Naboo's attention more than once.

Bollo rounded the final corner and there in front of them were the infamous cemetery gates. Naboo called forth his bats again and sent them through ahead. They careened and circled through the gates, disappearing from sight, before a couple of minutes later swarming back out of the graveyard and returning to high in the sky above them.

"We're quite safe", stated Naboo, "there's no zombies in there. Just ripped open graves and empty tombs."

"How do you know that?"

"I speak sonar."

"Oh!"

"So where now geniuses? I'm starting to regret offering to help you guys. If we don't get to the crunch soon I'm going to implode with boredom."

"What the hell's the matter with you?", Howard's anger showed momentarily before he realised he was directing it as much at Naboo as he was Saboo.

"Nothing's the matter with me. I was simply saying that this is all getting a bit tiresome. When are we actually going to see some action? If this part was in a novel people would have stopped reading half a page ago."

"Bollo smell something bad."

The great ape interrupted them all.

"What's that Bollo?"

"Bollo smell bad things. Coming from that way." Bollo pointed in the opposite direction to the cemetery.

Howard studied the map.

"That way is the Heath. Bollo, what is it you can smell?"

"Death!"

 

*

 

Vince didn't want to look. He'd been dragged unceremoniously to the centre of the stage and dumped in front of some contraption type thing. He really, really didn't want to look. Instead he curled himself up on the floor and tried to concentrate on something else. His brain cell had chosen to remain in the closet, but his visual memory was able to kick in. He thought of the zoo times, of Howard in his flippers competing in the porpoise races, of Howard bruised yet happy after that final round with the killer-roo, of that time in the tundra when he'd said he loved him. He focused harder. He remembered the sight of Howard in those tiny shorts on the way to the log cabin, of Howard hairy and sun-roasted on the desert island, of Howard in a cowboy hat playing harmonica under the light of the moon. He tried to cling onto every last memory. Howard and him crimping. Howard and him scrapbooking. Howard and him drinking tea. Howard and him kissing on the roof. That was it! That last memory was the one he was going to cling on to with all his might.

"Howard, if you can hear my thoughts hear this. I love you Howard Moon. I know I've not always been the best friend to you, and that I'm not as clever as you, but I do know that I love you. Please Howard, if you can hear me, please help me so I can kiss you again."

 

*

 

Howard, Naboo/Saboo and Bollo had ditched the sofa as soon as the sounds of groaning hit their ears and the stench of decay hit their nostrils. They made their way slowly and methodically through the tree line toward the sounds, desperately scared of what they'd find and yet totally accepting that they had to continue forward.

Naboo indicated a small hillock covered in trees to the right of them and the three/four friends made their way covertly towards it. As they crawled forward to the edge of their cover they realised they were at the top of a hill overlooking a large clearing. Crowded into this space were hundreds of zombies, all of which seemed to be facing a make-shift stage.

"It's like Glastonbury in Hell," whispered Saboo.

Up on the stage, striding across it like a horrific Freddy Mercury tribute act, was a terrifying, (yet not unhandsome), figure. Dressed head to toe in bright red, a skull sitting proud atop his hat, he clearly commanded both the stage and his audience.

"Zombie King,' stated Naboo matter-of-factly.

"Who?" Howard whispered back.

"Zombie King. Half human half demon. He's been trying to break through to the living world for years."

"I thought they got rid of him centuries ago", added Saboo.

"So did I, but obviously not."

"So how do we get rid of him now?" Howard asked as loudly as he dared.

"It's not easy. This is voodoo at work, deep dark voodoo. It's been a long time since Shamen have come up against pure Voodooism."

"But you can do it? What about the Spirit of Jazz, you defeated him didn't you?"

"Yes but he was just that, a spirit, a ghost. And he didn't have a zombie army with him."

"But you can do it can't you?"

Both Naboo and Saboo delivered an non-committed 'mmm'.

"Naboo, we..."

Howard's words were cut short as he suddenly spotted a tiny figure in the middle of the stage. It couldn't be could it? He put his hand on Naboo's arm, but Naboo had already spotted the figure too.

"Vince!"

It was only then that Howard also noticed a large wooden structure. It appeared to be a cross of sorts, a cross in the form of a big X. Howard could make out ropes attached but little else.

As they watched two huge undead beasts shuffled forward and grabbed an arm of Vince's each. They pulled him to his feet and shook him hard as yet again Vince tried to escape their grasp. He succeeded for a second, managing to free one arm before it was regathered and pulled taught. The group on the hill looked on in horror as The Zombie King walked over to Vince and jabbed him forcefully in the stomach with his staff. Vince doubled-over in obvious pain but was promptly yanked upright again. The Zombie King repeated the blow.

Howard, distraught, went to leap forward and race down the hill, but Bollo placed an arm around his shoulders and held him tight to the ground.

"No Harold! Not yet."

Howard barely registered Bollo's slip-up, as engrossed as he was in watching the love of his life being manhandled and beaten before him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the stage. The two zombies dragged Vince backwards and placed him spread-eagled against the cross. Vince was still trying to tear himself free, and Howard felt a rush of pride course through him, but it was all too late now. Both of Vince's wrists were hastily yet steadfastly bound into place, and his ankles quickly suffered the same treatment.

The Zombie King moved to the front of the stage to address his undead legion of fans.

"Tonight, you disgusting bags of bones, as the sun sets and the moon rises, you shall all pay witness to a glorious event. Squelchy Ladies and Manky Gentlemen, I present to you Vince, the bride to be."

As a massive, groaning roar filled the park Vince struggled harder at his bonds. He wriggled and pulled, trying desperately to free any part of him at all. He was shouting now too, yelling at the top of his lungs, calling the King all the biggest and nastiest words he could think of. Howard's heart was fast breaking. The agony of watching Vince scream for vengeance, for mercy, for freedom was tearing his insides out. He had to get down there. He just had to.

And then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, The Zombie King strided back over to the cross and slammed the staff directly into the side of Vince's head, instantly knocking the young man unconscious. As Howard watched his beautiful friend slump forward, held up only by the ropes around his wrists, he too passed out, his brain no longer able to cope with what he'd just witnessed.

Bollo felt him go limp beneath his grip.

"He fainted", he said to Naboo.

"Probably for the best," replied the Shaman, "Can you carry him to the sofa Bollo? We need to head back to the cemetery if we're going to fix this thing…

 

...[marvelously continued by a fellow booshlr over on Live Journal]

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Mighty Boosh and all related characters of course belong to Noel and Julian, Dave and Rich and Mike. We love them and we hope they don't mind us messing with them in some very peculiar ways. No money is being made from this effort.


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